Stereotypical (BBC Sherlock)

Chapter 18 - Notes

I changed the channel and flipped to watch the news. Usually, I avoided it, hating to hear all the bad things that were going on in the world. But John had told me to watch and so I turned it on.

"Cabinet member Peter Reybol was found in his bedroom by his wife. He was shot in the back and had been there, the police say, for at least six hours. There were no reports of gunshots or sounds of trouble. Prints could not be found. More on this later."

The door opened and Sherlock looked in. He was about to speak but hesitated a moment. "Are we okay enough to work together again?"

I hesitated. We weren't exactly avoiding each other but things weren't what I'd call okay between us. Deciding to follow his lead and keep business and pleasure separate, I nodded. I grabbed my things and hurried after him. "You know I was looking forward to enjoying my weekend." I muttered. Sherlock didn't reply. He let me slide in the cab and I shuffled into the middle seat beside John. "So there's no prints, no weapon. Even the blood was cleaned up?"

"Yes, he was shot in the back. There should have been some blood spill but no splatter. He was shot from a distance. That's all I know right now."

We arrived at the scene and moved past the reporters. Sherlock went right into the house, as usual ignoring the fact that he should wear the provided scrubs. John and I shrugged and followed his lead. He and John knelt beside the body, talking quietly about what they could gather.

Peter Reybol was thought to be a corrupt man, gladly taking bribes from businessmen. However, no substantial evidence was ever stacked against him so he was never convicted. Sherlock looked up and pointed at the floor beside the dead man. "Anderson did you test for blood residue?"

Anderson sighed. He stood by the window with his arms crossed. "Of course I did. There wasn't any except what was around him. It's in the lab now."

Sherlock nodded. "So our killer is smart. She didn't kill him here but knew how to drag him and leave him so as not to leave evidence of where he had been. She even laid him down right. The blood didn't pool anywhere else in the body."

"She?" We said together.

"There's no way a woman carried a man this size. She had help." John remarked.

"Not necessarily. But likely."

"How do you know it's a she?"

"Perfume. You don't smell it on him?"

"Yeah, but he's known to have a string of women on the side.

"Bleu, I believe it's called. It's off the market, there weren't enough sales, very small consumer pool. It shouldn't be hard to track sales and find a pool of suspects within the area."

Lestrade nodded from where he stood by the door. "He was a patron to the upcoming auction to buy out King's Corporation. Our main suspects are his competitors. We'll look into what women there are."

Sherlock leaned close to the body and squinted at the floor. He rolled the man to the side and pulled out a piece of paper.

"Backstabber." He read. "This isn't competition. We're dealing with revenge. You can narrow your suspects even more. Find people with direct relationships. Either we have a scorned mistress or business partner."

After that, there were no leads for a week. The blood was all Reybol's. None of the women among our suspects wore or bought Bleu. It was decided that it was the killer's calling card - along with the note she left. Sherlock was going crazy trying to find leads on the killer. I did what I could from work but nothing came up. Sherlock was on the verge of searching for his cigarettes again when Lestrade ran in.